I am very sorry for this.Submitted by itchy at 2004-05-19 12:07:45 EDT
Rating: 1.94 on 78 ratings (78 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
I would like to apologize for this before it starts. All I have to say is that I got precisely no sleep last night, and at 4:45 this morning, when the idea came to me, it seemed funny as hell. To those who find this to be somewhat below my standard fare, and I sorely hope there are some of you out there, all I can say is that, at 4:45 in the morning, I also thought the word “foil” was funny. Just say it, “Foil.” Foil. Foil. Foil.
THE PENIS DIALOGUES
Scene: Dark bedroom. Two people appear to be sleeping in the king-size bed. Sheets are rumpled and twisted about their bodies due to constant tossing and turning from the heat. The scene is illuminated by the television set, which shows gray blurs that resemble a small humanoid form. An electric fan oscillates fitfully on the dresser, creating a soothing white-noise effect.
itchy: (sleeping on stomach, flops grumpily from side, then to back.) Snuffle, snort. Gah. I think I might have actually slept there for a few seconds. Was I dreaming about a red 1976 Chevy Citation that was supposed to be a Honda Accord? Wonder what the hell that means. . .
<Enter One-eyed Pete, the Pee Hard-on>
Pete: Hey, you’re up!
itchy: Hey, you too. What are you doing here?
Pete: Oh, I usually pop up here a couple time a night, you know, just to see what’s going on. You usually aren’t awake for it though.
itchy: Well, I’ll be. You picked a hell of a night for it. I haven’t been able to sleep for crap.
Pete: Well, that’s what you get for drinking a caffeine filled soda before bed. You usually cut that stuff out at noon.
itchy: I know, I was just really thirsty and it sounded good for some reason.
Pete: Well, I can understand that. Sometimes you just gotta say, what the fuck. If it feels good, do it. That’s what I always say.
itchy: Yeah, but you’re not really the more cerebral of the two of us you know.
Pete: True, but I do know how to use my head when I need to.
itchy: Touche. So what have you been up to? It seems like we never get to spend any quality time together any more.
Pete: Me? Oh, you know, little of this, little of that. Been doing a lot of urinating mostly. It isn’t the most rewarding work, but it is still important. At least that’s what I tell myself to make it through the day.
itchy: I hear ya. You should try my job some time. Let me tell you, ACTION. PACKED.
Pete: You know, we should really try to get together more often. Like, maybe tonight we could do something, you know, after work.
itchy: Sounds pretty good to me.
Pete: And uh, maybe you could bring the ol’ wife along, if you know what I mean.
itchy: You bet I do. But that plan already backfired on me once tonight.
Pete: Yeah, I saw that. It was hard to watch. No pun intended.
itchy: I know. Its just these hands of mine. Sometimes I underestimate their power.
Pete: Sure, sure. I hear ya. One minute you are the king of romance, giving the greatest back rub the world has ever seen, the next, she’s in a coma. I think your problem is one of timing. You don’t know when to quit.
itchy: Could be. I don’t know. I know that with great power, comes great responsibility. Spider-man taught me that. But it seems like these hands have the power to give so much to so many . . . it doesn’t seem right to only use them half-way.
Pete: I can see that, but where does that attitude leave you? High and dry my friend, high and dry.
itchy: Yeah, but look how soundly she’s sleeping. I did that. That makes me feel pretty good too.
Pete: Okay, then try thinking about me. What about my needs?
itchy: Your needs?
Pete: Sure. You want to get prostate cancer? Well, I need to keep the juices flowing if we don’t want thing backing up and getting all funky.
itchy: I guess I hadn’t thought about that.
Pete: Well, that’s why I’m here. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.
itchy: That’s what I’m worried about. I was with you at the gas-station you know. I’m not sure how you took over, but I’d rather you not do it again.
Pete: Hey, how is Rikku doing anyway?
itchy: I have no idea. We aren’t going back there.
Pete: Oh come on, I was just funnin’. Give me a break. Still though, you gotta admit, it woulda been cool, huh? I can see it now, slip her some ginsing and some of that Niagra stuff . . .
Pete: Yeah, its supposed to be a form of Viagra for women. Get’s ‘em all hot and bothered. Oh! Or we could try getting some ecstasy. I’ve heard that freaking ROCKS.
itchy: Dude. We don’t do drugs.
Pete: Well what the hell do you call alcohol then, Mr. Puritan? Oh, that reminds me, if you aren’t going to be going out boozing the way you used to, you really need to start drinking more water. We don’t want to get kidney stones either.
itchy: Thanks for the tip, I’ll try to do better. But just because I use alcohol doesn’t mean I want to take the next step and move into other drugs.
Pete: I know. But that’s because you are a total prude. And a borderline fascist, I might add. What’s going on with the TV there?
itchy: That’s The Boy. He’s sleeping.
Pete: You actually have your child under surveillance? He’s what? One? Whatdoyathink? He’s working for Al Queda?
itchy: It isn’t surveillance, its a monitor. Just like the ones most people use to listen if their kid is crying, we just watch him too.
Pete: I don’t know, sound a lot like 1984 to me. Big Brother is watching you.
itchy: I think you’re paranoid.
Pete: I think you’re a wannabe John Ashcroft.
itchy: Shut up, dick.
Pete: Blow me.
itchy: Can’t. We tried that, remember? Back when we were like 15 or something.
Pete: I told you that you should never have quit taking gymnastics.
itchy: I never took gymnastics. You must be thinking of someone else. But hey, buddy, listen. I like you . . . just not in that way.
Pete: No. You are just chicken shit.
itchy: And you are just another leftist iconoclast. But seriously, I heard a story about a guy who tried that and broke his neck. They found him like that. With his ass all up in the air, millimeters from his goal.
Pete: I am left-leaning . . . that’s true. And I think you are thinking about Clerks, or Mallrats or something.
itchy: Oh, you’re right. Definitely a Kevin Smith movie. But hey, how does that work, by the way? The left-leaning thing? I’m right handed.
Pete: Pffff. No idea. Its mystery is exceeded only by its power.
itchy: Ha! Nice one! Dude, Where’s My Car?, right? Ha! High five!
Pete: . . . . .
itchy: Dude. High. Five!
Pete: I don’t have hands you dipshit! How can I high five you without hands?
itchy: Oh, right.
Pete: Hey, how about a hug?
itchy: Who’s a what now?
Pete: You know a nice, tight, warm, vigorous hug. You know I love hugs.
itchy: Uh, right . . .
Pete: Come on, you know you want to.
itchy: I’m not going to deny that. But I thought we had plans for tonight. I don’t want to waste any of my mojo.
itchy: That’s what I’m talking about!
Pete: Oh, forget it. I give up. I’m going back to sleep. Get out of bed you moron. We have to pee.
<alarm clock sounds>
itchy's wife: Grumble, grumble, snort. Were you talking to someone?
itchy: That’s just my alarm. The radio. Go back to sleep. Get some rest.
itchy: (under his breath) You’re going to need it. Mwuh ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Review This Item
Submitted by Random Joe at 2004-10-01 00:19:36 EDT (#)
Submitted by Random Joe at 2004-06-22 20:41:00 EDT (#)
Submitted by Random Joe at 2004-06-15 06:56:43 EDT (#)
Submitted by Random Joe at 2004-06-06 16:38:55 EDT (#)
Submitted by Random Joe at 2004-06-03 16:46:06 EDT (#)
Submitted by Random Joe at 2004-05-26 20:38:02 EDT (#)